


The Sounds of Humans

by IvyDevoss



Series: Angel Airwaves [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:52:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyDevoss/pseuds/IvyDevoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you replace “sex” with “eye sex” and “drugs” with “drinking”, this is simply a quiet evening for Dean and Cas, involving sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sounds of Humans

Castiel wasn’t entirely oblivious. He had noticed that Dean sometimes jumped and looked tense when the angel appeared near him. Castiel was confused; he didn’t wish to cause his human distress, but he wasn’t sure how to announce his presence in a non-startling way. He was a bit surprised, to be honest, that Dean wasn’t always as aware of him as Castiel was of Dean. Apparently humans weren’t as conscious of another presence as angels were. Castiel always knew where Dean was, whether he could see him or not. But upon discovering that his sudden arrival tended to make Dean nervous, Castiel had determined to seek advice. So he went to his only personal source of information who knew first-hand what life as both an angel and a human was like.

“Well, it’s because we’re so quiet.”

“Quiet?” Castiel narrowed his eyes.

“Sure,” said Anna with a shrug, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Humans are always making little sounds. Just involuntary noises, you know. They can’t be quiet. They breathe and shuffle their feet and touch their faces and clothing. That’s why Dean gets freaked out when you appear so noiselessly. It’s not human.”

“ _I’m_ not human.”

“Of course not. But you need to act that way, just a little, if you want to make him feel more comfortable.”

Dean was sitting on the motel bed watching television when Castiel arrived behind him. It seemed like it would be rude to distract him by making sounds, but he gathered his courage and tried. He slid his right foot over the carpet a few centimeters, shifted slightly back and forth, rubbed his palms lightly on the side of his coat and even softly cleared his throat for good measure.

Dean turned his head quite fast, but the moment he saw Castiel he relaxed just as quickly. “Hey, Cas.”

Castiel sensed that familiar feeling of warmth directed at him from somewhere deep within the hunter’s soul. It was a nice sensation. He tuned in to Dean’s thoughts and was pleased to find a distinct lack of _Oh shit that dude’s going to give me a heart attack one of these days_ – which had been Dean’s reaction the last time Castiel had flown in to see him, arriving just behind the human who had been performing one of his various cleanliness rituals at the bathroom sink.

Dean grabbed the remote and turned down the TV’s volume a few notches. “So, what’s going on?”

Belatedly, Castiel realized he had no excuse for his visit. He had merely wanted to try out Anna’s advice. But some part of him felt disinclined to admit this – probably the same part of him that wisely counseled against revealing to Dean the full extent of his mind-reading powers.

All the same, he would not lie to Dean if he could help it. “Nothing in particular is going on,” he replied carefully. “What's... going on... with you?”

Dean’s eyebrows went unnecessarily high, Castiel thought, and a one-sided smirk tugged at his lips. “Uh, I’m watching the Billboard Hot 100 nineties countdown. Sam’s not back from interviewing our witness yet, might take a while.” He paused. “Do you, uh... want a beer or something?”

Now that he was here, Castiel reflected, he might as well stay. It was rare enough that he got a chance to spend undirected time with the Winchesters. “Yes, thank you,” he said politely, and seated himself on the edge of the bed next to the spot where Dean had been sitting.

Several minutes later, beer in hand (he’d forgotten to start drinking it and was merely enjoying the cool condensation against his skin), Castiel found himself receiving an in-depth lesson in early nineties songs that kicked ass and early nineties songs that sucked ass. He had attempted to note which of these expressions was the positive one and which the negative one, but Dean’s explanations were very complicated and Castiel had quickly lost track. Luckily, the hunter’s facial expressions and tone of voice communicated his feelings about the music more effectively than any of his words did, and as usual, Castiel found himself tuning in to his human’s emotional state, rather than the more confusing things he was actually saying.

“What the hell?” Dean asked the television loudly. “‘Whoot, There It Is’? Isn’t there already some other song called that? Just wait till we get to the Top Ten,” he advised Castiel, taking another swig of his beer. “You’ll see. There was another one that year, it’s called, like, ‘Whoop There It Is’ or something. Swear to God, '93 was the year of the sucky song titles. But Meat Loaf is coming up soon, once we’re into the Top Forty. He kicks ass.” Castiel regarded Dean’s expression closely for a moment and deduced that this latest statement had been a compliment to the meat loaf. He still wasn’t sure what food had to do with these videos of songs, though.

“Is meat loaf good?” he asked tentatively, transferring the cold bottle to his right hand.

Dean noticed this action. “Dude, you’re supposed to drink it.” He grabbed it and popped off the cap on the bedside table with a practiced hand before returning it. “And yeah, he’s awesome. His video for this one rocks, just you wait.”

Waiting was something Castiel definitely knew how to do. He was good at it, and would even do it gladly if it was Dean requesting it of him. They watched several more videos of songs, while working their way through one six-pack of beer and into another. Some of the songs mildly disturbed Castiel – one singer repeatedly claimed “I’d die without you”, while another sang about “taking my heart to pieces”. Yet another video took place in a church and mentioned Jesus and falling. Dean talked through most of that one.

Eventually Dean said that the meat loaf was here, and Castiel belatedly realized that must be the name of a person. “This song is totally epic,” Dean advised, opening another beer for each of them. “Pay attention. You need to know what good music is.”

Obediently, Cas devoted even more of his attention to the television screen. Of course, he couldn’t entirely tear his mind away from thinking about Dean, especially when they were this close, but if Dean wanted him to pay attention to the song, he would.

The singer started by declaring that he would do anything for love, even “run right into hell and back.” Castiel narrowed his eyes. “That’s not possible, Dean. If one were to willingly enter Hell, any return would be extraordinarily difficult and painful.”

“Whatever, it’s a song,” Dean said with a grin.

“Dean,” Castiel replied quietly. “Have you forgotten how we met?”

Dean’s grin vanished, and he shot Castiel a guilty look but didn’t say anything. The angel returned his attention to the music, although after however many beers he’d had, it now took a bit more concentration. The singer was currently reaffirming his willingness to do anything for love, additionally describing the timeframe during which this promise would be valid: _“As long as the planets are turning, as long as the stars are burning...”_

“You have no idea,” Castiel muttered to himself.

“What?” Dean asked, side-eyeing Cas from behind his bottle.

“No mortal can even begin to comprehend the true hugeness of eternity,” Castiel said, a bit louder. His eyes were still on the screen, but he got a sudden rush of amusement from Dean’s mind and turned his head in surprise.

The hunter was sitting there with a wide smile. “Man, you are just as bad as Sam when we’re watching Boston Legal. So he doesn’t know what he’s talking about – who cares? Just enjoy the music.”

Castiel nodded and gulped down the rest of his beer. He was starting to see why some people became so dependent on alcohol. It did seem to make the stupidity of others a bit more bearable.

Later in the song, a woman was singing with the man and asking him questions. First she asked him to “hold her sacred.” Castiel tried to drink his beer, but it was empty. When the woman sang “Will you hose me down with holy water if I get too hot?” though, the angel couldn’t stay quiet. “Dean.”

Dean sighed, seeming to anticipate the question. “Yeah, what.”

“Is such a – such a use for holy water is uncommon, is it not?” Castiel frowned. “For the purpose of cooling oneself, normal water would function just as well. I don’t think these people know what they’re talking about.”

Dean chuckled and shook his head blearily. “I don’t know what to tell ya, Cas. It’s rock ‘n’ roll. Dude, how many beers have you had? Are you even drunk at all?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel grumbled. “What does it feel like to be drunk? No, never mind, I don’t care. I’m trying to listen to the song.”

Dean burst out laughing. “I don’t believe it! You ARE drunk! Cas, listen to yourself!”

“Deeeean,” the angel growled.

“All right, fine, I’ll shut up.” Dean kept chuckling quietly to himself for a while, though, and Castiel felt his annoyance disperse as his grace, fuzzy but still functional, absorbed the affection Dean was feeling towards him in this moment. He felt an overwhelming desire to touch Dean, and, before he knew it, the angel found his hand resting on Dean’s shoulder.

The owner of the shoulder raised his eyebrows. “Um, hi.”

“We greeted each other earlier.” Castiel’s voice was even more gravelly than usual.

“Okay.” Dean glanced down at the hand still resting on his shoulder and seemed about to ask a question, then shrugged – with the other shoulder – and didn’t ask it. Castiel heard him thinking _He’s just drunk, that’s all._

The angel wasn’t sure what the purport of this thought was, but since Dean hadn’t said it aloud, Castiel thought he probably shouldn’t ask about it. For some reason, Dean’s mental dismissal of Castiel’s action vaguely irritated the angel, although he wasn’t sure what his intent behind touching Dean had been in the first place. So he removed his hand and placed it firmly back on his bottle, fixing his eyes on the television screen. It took him a moment to realize that the song had ended and they were currently watching a short film intended to convince viewers that a certain brand of toilet bowl cleaner was vastly superior to another one.

“Commercial break,” Dean explained, and leaned forward to pick up the remote from the floor and turn down the volume. “So, what’d you think? Pretty badass, right?”

“Not entirely,” Castiel allowed. “Musically, I found it not that bad. Ass. But the lyrics were insufficiently thought-out and referenced states of being no human could ever experience. I don’t see why people feel compelled to include all this extraneous description in a song that is simply about love.”

There was a pause. He felt Dean appraising him, and lifted his eyes to meet the hunter’s gaze. “That is, if I understood it correctly. It is about love, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Dean smiled slightly. “Not bad, Cas. Didn’t think you’d have such an in-depth analysis. ‘Badass’ actually means ‘good’, by the way.”

“Oh.” Castiel sighed. “Right. And ‘kickass’ means bad? And ‘fuckass’ means bad too?”

Dean threw back his head and laughed so hard he dropped his beer bottle. Luckily it was empty. Castiel watched in bemused interest as Dean laughed for a very long time, finally sitting up and wiping his eyes before clapping a hand on the angel’s shoulder. “Cas. ‘Fuckass’ is not a word. I mean, I guess it is now, but... but don’t say that.” He cracked up again, before finally getting a hold of himself. “Listen, if you’re confused, just stick to ‘good’ and ‘bad’, okay?”

“No,” Castiel said petulantly. “I want to learn what you mean when you say the ass words.”

Dean broke down in laughter again, punching Castiel gently in a way that the angel understood was intended to be a gesture of friendship rather than violence. “Okay, all right.” Dean was gasping for breath, still teary-eyed with hilarity. “Fine, I’ll teach you. Just... not tonight, okay? I think we’re both kind of out of it.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked, too exhausted from his attempts at comprehension to mind revealing his ignorance anymore.

“I mean you’re totally smashed,” Dean proclaimed. “And I’m getting there myself. You can drink like a fish!” He shook his head, and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, bracing one hand on the angel’s knee as he did so, for too brief a moment. “Jesus, I gotta crash.”

Castiel might not have had the opportunity to learn very many idiomatic expressions yet, but he did know that this was Dean’s way of saying “I’m going to bed”, so he stood up as well. “All right. Good night, Dean.” He disappeared, and appeared almost immediately on the other side of the room, frowning and wobbling slightly. “That... wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Cas, are you too drunk to fly?” Dean crowed with laughter. “That’s gotta be a new one. I can’t believe I got an angel drunk off his ass. I am never going to heaven.”

“You will if I have any say in it,” Castiel mumbled, trying to gather the energy to fly off again.

Before he could, though, Dean had crossed the room and grabbed his arm. “Cas, c’mon, don’t even try. I don’t want you hurting yourself or something. You can stay here tonight, just hit the sofa and wait till the alcohol’s left your system. Sam won’t mind.”

“All right.” Castiel had been going to argue, but he suddenly realized he was really in no state to do so. “Thank you, Dean.”

“No problem, man.” Dean paused for a second, and then added in a gruff tone “You were good company tonight, it’s the least I can do.”

Castiel nodded slowly, feeling that he should probably be careful with his head. “Thank you for teaching me about good music.”

“We’re not done with that yet.” Dean pointed at him. “You’ve still got a lot to learn.”

Castiel nodded again. “And the ass words too. Including that new one. You just said that I am... drunk off my ass,” he pronounced, recalling Dean’s words of a minute ago.

Dean didn’t answer, but just gazed at the angel for a minute, feeling absurdly fond of him in that moment. He wasn’t really a man of many words, at least not when it came to emotions and all that stuff, but luckily with Cas it often seemed that he didn’t have to be. And this time was no exception. As they stood there looking into each other’s eyes, as was their habit, Dean could see the angel’s eyes crinkle a bit at the corners and a tentative smile cross his lips, and somehow, he knew that Cas understood exactly what he wanted to say.


End file.
